


little boxes

by dantehicks (arthureverest)



Category: Clerks. (1994)
Genre: (yes again), Gen, M/M, Parent Death, and flirting as distraction, compartmentalization to an obsessive degree, otherwise... a real document of sunshine...., physical abuse mention, suicidal thoughts mention, uhm also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 12:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthureverest/pseuds/dantehicks
Summary: See, Randal liked to put thoughts in little boxes so they were tidy. He never opened the boxes, never looked inside. He'd let the thoughts rot if they could.Being gay was something he'd put in a box when he was pretty young. The idea of being in love with anyone was in a box. Being in love with Dante? Two boxes, at least. He never opened them, they never saw each other.





	little boxes

**Author's Note:**

> "this isnt what it looks like, i promise i hate randal graves" bass boosted

Randal only stayed at the video store because he was in love. He only stayed in New Jersey because he was in love, and he'd follow that wherever it went. 

Turns out it didn't go far, which was part of why he was always pestering Dante to make bigger changes. 

He didn't know all this, or if he did, he never consciously thought about it. 

See, Randal liked to put thoughts in little boxes so they were tidy. He never opened the boxes, never looked inside. He'd let the thoughts rot if they could. 

Being gay was something he'd put in a box when he was pretty young. The idea of being in love with anyone was in a box. Being in love with Dante? Two boxes, at least. He never opened them, they never saw each other. 

Seeing his dad opened boxes sometimes. Things he hid. Things that hurt. 

Those were the first boxes Randal had put things in, so by now they were a little ragged, easier to open. 

Having those boxes open made Randal feel every emotion. Anger, sadness, pain, relief… the last one was the worst, because it came with guilt. Guilt was something Randal wasn't able to put in a box. He hated that. 

When his dad died, the boxes broke. Something snapped. He didn't understand, he couldn't stop every errant thought, every awful thought. Guilt had done this, surely. 

In every wave of anger, sadness, pain, relief, he found a voice, the same voice that told him to pester Dante at work, telling him to pay his friend a visit. 

Dante immediately saw his tear-stained face and knew something was up. Randal never cried, Dante knew this. 

“Dad…” was all he could muster.

“Oh god, did you guys have another fight? Did he hurt you?” 

Randal, boxless, found it hard to look at Dante and not say everything that was on his mind, and with every thought jumping to leave his mouth at once he got overwhelmed and started crying again. 

Dante saw this and immediately, dutifully did everything he could to take care of Randal. 

He gave him a spot on the couch, a Mystery Science Theater episode to watch, something to drink and a shoulder to lean on. 

Dante's shoulder was so warm and solid, just being near him was distraction enough. 

They watched tv silently for a bit before Dante tried to get more information.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Randal hummed sleepily in neither affirmation nor decline. He put his hand on Dante's thigh and leaned further in to his shoulder. 

“Randal?” 

He didn't respond to his name other than to move his hand slightly up Dante's thigh. 

“Randal, you're confused…” Dante said, pulling his friend off of him and standing up.

Randal stood up to meet him and looked him in the eyes. There was a delicate vulnerability there; Dante felt like he was looking into Randal's eyes for the first time. Something in his brain went off like a tea kettle.

“God, Ran’. You don't want…” he trailed off before he could say 'me’. 

“I do want this.” he said, and reached for Dante's hand. “I need this.”

“Not now, you don't. We need to talk. Hell, I need some time to process ‘this’. First, tell me what happened.”

Randal wanted so badly for Dante to have responded differently, specifically along the lines of kissing him, indulging him in this distraction.

But he knew that Dante was right, it wasn't the time, and he needed to process his emotions instead of running from them. 

“What happened.” Dante instructed the question, sitting back down. 

“He's…” Randal sat back down as well. “He's gone. And I don't know how to feel.”

“Oh my god.” Dante managed, shocked.

“Yes, indeed. The man who raised me, in between sessions of beating my ass, is gone. Gone to harass the devil in hell.” 

“Oh my god.” Dante repeated. “Are you ok?”

“I mean, I'm lucky he ran out of gas before I lost it completely. I'm just…” 

Dante nodded encouragingly, as if to say 'you can say it’. 

“I'm so angry.” Randal continued. “I'm so angry and upset and I'm angry at myself for being upset, for being hurt, for giving a fucking damn.”

“Look it's understandable to have complex emotions over this sort of thing.”

“I don't want to have complex emotions. I don't wanna feel a thing for that bastard.”

Dante nodded, unsure of what to say. 

“He ruined my life. I'd be so much happier, healthier, if he'd given me up. Do you know how many times I wished I was dead? It's a miracle I'm still here. Or a curse. I don't know yet.”

Something compelled Dante to put out his hand to hold, and Randal took him up on it. That warmth didn't fix anything, but it made him feel less alone. It made him feel like it was even okay that he was alive, because maybe in the future he'd be rid of all this guilt and could feel that warmth unfiltered. 

“I love you.” he blurted out. 

“Randal…”

“No. You're my best friend and I love you. You have been there for me, taken care of me, when I didn't deserve it.”

“It's not about deserve. No one 'deserves’ what you got. I'm just, I don't know, a consolation prize.” 

Randal wanted to make some flirty quip about him being a prize but he just hugged Dante tight. 

“You mean so much to me.” he said into Dante's shoulder.

Dante hugged back, hoping it would help.

They eventually fell asleep on the couch, in each other's arms.

Dante hoped it would help. It was a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> randal needs fucken therapy, please can we get this man some therapy


End file.
